


Tension Pancakes

by DanOfVulcan



Series: Momentos [10]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Breakfast, M/M, Tension, Tuckerreed, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 06:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6459286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanOfVulcan/pseuds/DanOfVulcan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tension covered pancakes is what's for breakfast</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tension Pancakes

Malcolm Reed sat alone, his backs to the wall, grateful that the mess hall wasn't entirely packed, neither empty. The former would mean he'd have to share his table, and the latter that he'd be easily noticeable in an empty room. As things stood, he could do what he did best, that is, blend in with the sorroundings and just go unnoticed.

He wasn't at ease. He seldom was. It came with being a tactical officer, and his personality only added to it. However, he did allow himself to zone out for a short while, driven by both his reveries and the peanut butter and pancakes he was having for breakfast.

Quickly and decisively his thoughts turned to one Trip Tucker.

He knew the engineer had found out who was watching him during movie night last week.

_He knows. He was looking at me._

He chewed on a mouthful of pancakes.

_I felt his gaze. He got up, and stood by the food dispenser... For way too long..._

A sip of orange juice washed down the pancakes. It had been a few days and the blonde hadn't talked to him about it. _Yet,_ a part of his mind supplied added _._

_Granted, I've been avoiding him as much as possible..._ And when not able to avoid him, the Englishman made sure they were neither alone nor in an informal setting. "Maybe he didn't notice" a part of his mind suggested him.

_Sure. High chance of that happening!_

Another mouthful of pancakes.

"Mornin', Malcolm".

Suddenly the peanut butter turned sour in his mouth, the contents of his stomach swirling fast. Looking up, the Englishman was greeted with the sight of Commander Tucker sitting up in front of him, a big plate in hand, with his usual friendly expression framing his blue eyes.

_Dear Lord, really?!_

"Good Morning, Commander" came the formal, distant reply as the armory officer resumed his breakfast, less enthusiastic then a moment before.

As they carried on with the task of eating, all seemed to be going casual, though the tension between the two men could be carved with a laser scalpel. Trip was eating his breakfast, as was Malcolm, whom was trying his level best to eat as quickly as possible without giving away his desire to just sprint out of the room. For Trip's part, there was no small talk. No inquiries as to how Malcolm's day had started, his duties for the day... Nothing.

To the Englishman, that was as disturbing as the possibility of Trip talking actually being about the damn movie night.

Deciding he was done with the meal, though there still remained quite a bit of it on the plate, Malcolm placed the cutlery on the plate, and proceeded to wipe his mouth. As he was taking the napkin from his lap, he heard the most subtle call. His name. A barely audible "Malcolm _",_ whisper-like, really. He felt his core congeal with a mix of emotions. Suddenly his hands were shaing. Visibly shaking. He didn't dare look up. His gaze was fixed on the white napkin laying on his lap.

"Malcolm"

Again. Again, God damn it! He just had to do something. So he did. He looked up. And he saw, much to his despair, that Charles Tucker III knew. Maybe not everything, but he knew about movie night. He could see it in those blue eyes, now grown a dark blue with unreadable emotions and intent.

Panic took Malcolm over.

_I can't deal with this. Not right now. Not in here._

Quickly rising from his chair, pushing it back against the wall, all but throwing the napkin on the table, he made his way out of the mess hall after uttering a "I must go". Trip Tucker merely sat there, gazing at the now empty chair, his mind running faster than the warp drive he tended to.

 

 


End file.
